White Walls
by AubreenaGreen
Summary: "Draco, if you are reading this, then I am dead." Dramione oneshot. EWE, character death


_Draco,_

_If you are reading this, then I am dead, but I hope to Merlin that you never get this letter. Firstly, I just want to tell you that I love you, and I always will. You were my first and only love. Next, if I know you, you're probably blaming yourself for my death right now, and I need to tell you to stop that. Blaming yourself for something that you most likely had no control over is not healthy, and isn't going to do you any good. But the last thing that I want is for you to forget about me. Don't get hung up over someone who's gone. Find another witch who will make you happy, and give her a chance. I don't want to be the reason that you live a miserable life. So please, Draco, if you really love me, then let me go._

_I love you, Draco,_

_Hermione_

Draco sighed miserably while running his fingers through his unkempt blond hair, and stared at the white walls surrounding his room in the safe house; white walls that mocked him, reminded him of his emptiness, of his loss.

Sighing in silent mourning, he carefully folded the letter back up, and returned it to his pocket, where it had been for the last three hundred and sixty five days.

He had gone exactly one year without his bossy and insufferable witch, and it still hurt as if it were yesterday. He didn't care what she said; he couldn't move on.

He couldn't forget.

* * *

_Three Hundred and Sixty-Six Days Earlier_

"Draco, I _have _to go; you can't stop me."

But the defected Death Eater didn't release his grip on the witch's arm; he just stood there with a pleading look on his face. "Please, Hermione," he beseeched her. "I have a bad feeling about this one."

Hermione defiantly stood her ground, shooting him a firm glare. "You have a bad feeling about all of them. But if we don't fight back, the Death Eaters are _going _to break our defenses. You know it's true, Draco."

The blond wizard sighed in defeat, and released her. "I know, but... I just don't want you getting hurt."

The bushy-haired witch's gaze softened. "Draco, love, I get hurt all the time; this fight won't be any different. I can defend myself. You know that."

"But one of these days, you're going to be outmatched," he argued. "Experienced death eaters won't give up so easily, and they _will _kill you. Don't you remember Bellatrix Lestrange? You were within an inch of your life the last time you-"

"I _know__, _Draco!" she interrupted, fuming. "I was _there_! Funny enough, you weren't!"

"Well, I would have been if that bloody boulder hadn't fallen on me," he protested. Due to lack of experienced healers, the members of the safe house had been forced to resort to some muggle methods. The most they could do was charm his cast to speed up the process, so he had been unable to fight for a month following the accident. At that moment, however, he was unable to go because he had broken one of his wrists when he had fallen thirty feet after an explosion had sent him flying, and they hadn't wanted to take any chances.

"Hermione!" someone called from below, and Draco was met with two large brown eyes, begging him to let her go.

"Please, Draco!" she cried. "I _have _to go!"

With the knowledge that there was no way he would be able to stop her, he hugged her. "I- I love you," he said.

Hermione sighed, and looked at him with solemn, yet loving eyes, tears threatening to fall. "I know, Draco. I love you, too."

With that, he broke the hug, leaned down, and kissed her, his cheeks dampening with her tears. It wasn't rough; it wasn't lustful.

It was timeless.

And yet, it was over too soon. Hermione broke away when more people began calling her name.

"I'm sorry, Draco! I'll see you in a few hours!" she called as she made her way to the door. Before she left, she turned and looked at him one last time with those big brown eyes of hers that he just couldn't get enough of. "I love you!" she said. And then she was gone.

Little did they know that that was the last time brown eyes would meet grey. Little did they know that those would be the last words spoken between them.

Little did they know that they had just shared their last kiss.

* * *

When Hermione had arrived at one of the Order safe houses after they had lost the war and Harry, she hadn't expected to see Draco Malfoy. But she most certainly hadn't expected to fall in love with him. And yet, there they were, two and a half years later.

He had finally ditched the pureblood supremacy that he had flaunted around back at Hogwarts once he had defected from the Death Eaters with his parents. Narcissa and Lucius were in a different safe house in another compromised location; no one knew the whereabouts of more than two different houses, for safety reasons.

The other members of their location included Blaise Zabini (defected), Luna Lovegood, Charlie Weasley, Parvati Patil, and Andromeda Tonks, with Minerva McGonagall as their safeguard. Dennis Creevey, Lavender Brown, Theodore Nott (defected), and Ginny Weasley had originally been with them, too, but had fallen to the hands of the Death Eaters.

Now all they had left to do was fight. And that's exactly what they did.

The six of them stood in formation, waiting for the five or so novice Death Eaters who always thought they could take on the Order members, and always lost.

But that didn't happen.

The first Death Eater to arrive, wild-haired and cackling maliciously, was none other than Bellatrix Lestrange. Followed shortly after, and growling hungrily, was Fenrir Greyback. They were soon joined by the Carrow twins, and a few other unnamed Death Eaters. They were outnumbered and outmatched, and Hermione wanted nothing more than to turn and flee, but she knew she had to stand her ground.

She had to fight.

And fight she did.

Twenty minutes later, Luna and Charlie were taking on Fenrir, Parvati, Andromeda, and Minerva were dueling the Carrows, and Blaise was chasing off the other unskilled Death Eaters one by one. As for Hermione, well, she was on the run from Bellatrix.

Her blood pounded in her ears, and her heart was beating so loud that she thought it might just burst out of her chest. Hermione knew that she would have to stop running and face the cruel witch at some point, but she honestly couldn't think of that right then. All she knew she had to do was escape.

Bellatrix's evil laugh sounded behind her, and as Hermione ran through the rubble, trying to get back to the others, she allowed herself one glance at the Death Eater. Unfortunately, that was one glance too many. Hermione tripped on the crumbling brick her foot got caught on, and fell to the ground, landing on her elbows and knees with a cry of pain. She heard a crack, and knew that she had broken her leg.

Bellatrix saw her chance, and screeched "_Crucio_!" before Hermione had an opportunity to run again.

Searing pain as hot as fire ran through her body, as if it were ripping her from the inside out, and Hermione began to convulse, screaming in agony. She heard Bellatrix cheering at the sound of her cries, and knew that it was only going to get worse from there.

After twenty minutes of sheer, agonizing torture, however, she could hear Lestrange becoming a bit bored. Suddenly, the pain stopped, and Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, only to be extinguished by pure terror as the witch whipped up her wand again.

"_Avada Ke_-" she started, but she was cut off mid-spell when an ear-splitting crash sounded from above. Hermione managed to raise her head off the ground enough to see that one of the walls of the abandoned building was falling down. She heard the pop of apparition that signaled Bellatrix's flee as the heavy stone wall came crumbling down on top of her.

* * *

"Draco!"

Draco woke from his restless sleep to the sound of Blaise's voice calling him. In a flash, he was up and running down the steps to the main room.

As soon as he met Blaise at the bottom of the stairs, he bombarded him with questions. "Is everyone alright? Did everyone survive? Where's Hermione? Wh-"

Blaise stopped him right there. "For Merlin's sake, Draco! Slow down! We were outnumbered, and Bellatrix, Greyback, and the Carrows were there." At his friend's worried expression, he continued. "Don't worry, everyone made it out in time. But..."

"But what, Blaise?" Draco asked anxiously. "What happened?"

"Hermione. She..." he started, his voice cracking. "She got crushed by a wall. One of the spells went amiss, and brought it down."

"Blaise," Draco started cautiously. "You said everyone made it out. Is she alright? Is she alive?"

"Yes, she's alive," he said, and Draco let out a sigh of relief. "But Draco, she's in a coma. _If _she wakes up, it's not going to be for awhile."

Draco glared at his friend disbelievingly. "What do you mean "_if _she wakes up"? Why wouldn't she wake up, Blaise?"

Blaise stared at the ground solemnly. "Draco, she was injured pretty badly by the wall."

"But, you can fix it," the blond protested. "You can fix it with magic!"

Blaise looked him in the eye, and shook his head. "There's only so much that magic can do, and we don't have a healer with us, and-" he started, but just then, Charlie and Andromeda walked in, levitating an unconscious Hermione, and Draco began to run to her, but Blaise caught his arm.

"No, Draco," he said. "You can't do anything for her right now."

Draco tried to wrench his arm from his friend's grip, but it was to no avail. "Let go of my arm, Blaise," he spat.

"Why don't you just go lay down and-"

"Because that's my bloody girlfriend, that's why!" Draco shouted as he began to see red, convulsing in anger.

"I didn't want to do this, Draco," Blaise said, raising his wand. "_Stupefy_!"

* * *

Draco woke to a throbbing in his head and Blaise in the door. "You can go see her now," he said, a hint of understanding in his voice.

He didn't need any further permission; he was quickly on his feet. The pain from the headache briefly subsided as he ran down the hall to Hermione's room, stopping only once he reached the entrance.

He placed his hand on the knob, and turned it slowly, wincing as the door creaked. He then proceeded to mentally slap himself when he remembered that she was unconscious, not asleep.

When he entered the room, his view of his girlfriend was blocked by the unruly blonde hair of Luna Lovegood, who was sitting with her and talking about some new made-up creature.

"_Ahem_," Draco coughed just loud enough for Lovegood to hear. She looked up, and gave him a weak, yet still dreamy smile, getting up to give him time alone. As she left the room, she said nothing, but comfortingly patted his shoulder. Offering her a tight and awkward attempt at a sincere smile, he turned back to Hermione.

And there she was. He would have thought she were dead had it not been for the faint rise and fall of her chest. Her wild hair was even wilder, matted in several places, her face was pretty much one giant bruise, her left leg was twisted in a direction that legs should never twist, and she had a long gash running from her left eyebrow to the corner of her mouth, but she still looked as beautiful as ever to him.

Pulling up a chair next to the bed, he sat down with her, brushing a stray lock of hair from her eyes.

"I suppose this is a bad time to say 'I told you so', then," he chuckled grimly. "I... I know that there's a chance you might d... might not make it," he continued, his voice cracking. "But I just want you... I just want you to be strong. For me. Can you do that?"

When she didn't respond, he felt the first wave of guilt come on. "I'm so sorry, Hermione. This is all my fault. I should have made you stay; I should have convinced you. I should have done _something_!"

Draco hated crying; he absolutely despised it. And he hadn't cried since his sixth year. But right at that moment, the tears were flowing freely down his cheeks, and he did nothing to prevent them; there was nothing he _could _do.

So Draco just cried, and held her limp body in his arms, not realizing that her breathing had ceased.

He didn't look up until there was a knock at the door and Blaise entered with an envelope in his hands, looking grim.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Draco asked nervously.

"This is for you," Blaise said, holding out the letter to him. Draco was hesitant to take it, until he saw Hermione's all-too-familiar handwriting on the front. Snatching the piece of paper from him, he dismissed his friend. "I'm sorry," was all Blaise said in parting.

_Draco,_

_If you are reading this, then I am dead..._

Draco flung the letter across the room in horror, not wanting to read any more. Lies. It was all lies. Hermione was _not _dead. She was going to be alright; she _had _to be.

Silently sobbing into her lifeless shoulder, he promised her that he would be there when she regained consciousness. He promised to be there to see her bright eyes meet his gaze. He promised he would stay by her side until she woke up.

But she never did.

* * *

**Written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition.**

**Position: Keeper**

**Prompt: Chaser 1's favorite pairing**

**Hope you liked it! R&amp;R please!**


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